


You Can Hear It In The Silence, You Can Feel It On The Way Home

by matteblackbats



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Shower, Summer of Like, naps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25916863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matteblackbats/pseuds/matteblackbats
Summary: There's a twin bed shoved in the corner, and the walls are covered in floor to ceiling band posters. Pete looks around, glimpsing the mind of a teenage Mikey. It’s not unlike his own, if Pete’s being honest with himself.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way (mentioned), Mikey Way/Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump/Joe Trohman (Background)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	You Can Hear It In The Silence, You Can Feel It On The Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Title from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift

Pete stumbles into the front lounge of his bus disoriented and bleary-eyed. It’s not early, exactly, but it’s earlier than he usually gets up. He beelines for the shitty coffee maker, hoping to wake himself up enough to hold a semi-lucid conversation. Patrick is sitting on the couch, with Joe’s head pillowed against his thigh. He looks directly at Pete as he sits down at the tiny table.

“We’re trading you for Cortez,” He says.

“Huh?” Pete asks.

“We’re trading you for Cortez,” Patrick repeats. “I talked to Gerard about it a few days ago. Cortez seems up for it, anyways.”

Pete takes a sip of his coffee before staring at Patrick incredulously. “Why are you trading me for Cortez? Let alone talking to Gerard about it?” 

Joe snorts and looks up from where he was laying. “Because, young padawan, you have much to learn about yourself.” Pete gives him a puzzled look before Joe continues. “We’re not blind, Pete. We know about your thing with Mikey. Hell, most of the kids who pay any attention to your melodramatic Livejournal ramblings know about your thing with Mikey. You’re in love with the guy.”

“And what” Pete pauses, taking another sip. “And what does me being in love with Mikey have to do with trading me for Cortez?”

“It’s so you can go to Europe with him,” Patrick says. “If you let Mikey go, you’re gonna kick yourself about it for years. I can’t watch you do that to yourself, man. So we’re gonna trade you for Cortez, you’re gonna go to Europe with My Chem, and you're gonna man up and profess your love. Gerard agreed with me.”

“Gerard agreed with you that I should go, and was okay that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with his brother?” Pete asks, giving the two of them an incredulous look. 

“I was a little surprised too,” Patrick responds. “But then Gerard said that he was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. So he agreed.”

Pete stares down into his coffee cup. His own reflection, darkened by the liquid, stares back at him. There are bags under his eyes and his hair is fluffy and askew on the left side of his head from where he slept on it. Fall Out Boy has a string of about six shows while My Chem is in Europe. He doesn’t want to miss them, but this thing with Mikey has gotten so real these past few weeks that he can’t picture his life without Mikey in it anymore. He knows, deep down, what Patrick is saying is true. He can’t let this go. “What’re we gonna tell the kids?” he asks, more to his reflection in the mug than to anyone in the room.

“We’ll tell the press that you got mono or something” Joe responds. “As long as you can stay out of the way of cameras while you’re with the My Chem guys, that should be fine. You can tell the fans yourself why you missed a few shows later on if you guys decide to go public, anyways. If the guilt is just gonna eat away at you” Joe snorts.

“I guess so,” Pete says, looking up from himself in the coffee. He feels a small smile play at the corners of his mouth. His heart feels about three sizes too big for his chest. He doesn’t have to let Mikey go. He gets to follow him around Europe like a groupie instead, and then wherever else Mikey goes. Hopefully, Mikey will follow him when Pete needs to come back to his band. Pete is pretty sure he will. “You’re amazing, Lunchbox. Really and truly the Best Best Friend. I have wonderful taste.” Patrick scowls at the nickname, but Pete can see that he’s laughing. It makes everything feel real.

“You need to get your shit out of your bunk so you can trade with Cortez,” Patrick says. “My Chem is leaving for Jersey at noon, so they can have a few days at home before taking off. You have to go with them.”

Pete glances at the clock on the microwave. It blinks back 9:38 AM at him. He downs the rest of his coffee in two gulps and heads back to his bunk to pack up and clean out, almost delirious with happiness. He gets to stay with Mikey. It’s all he could have asked for.

Two and a half hours later, Pete is standing in a Massachusetts parking lot, talking about riffs with Matt Cortez, of all people. “Sugar is the important one,” Pete tells him. “So is Grand Theft. No one is really gonna notice if you fuck up like, Gin Joints, but people will notice if you fuck up with the singles. So try not to do that.”

“Don’t you worry your sweet little ass,” Cortez responds. “I’ve got this. It’s not like they’re super complicated or anything.”

Pete doesn't have time to respond to Cortez’s ribbing before he hears Iero yelling, threatening to leave him if he doesn't get his ass on the bus. Pete waves Cortez off and jogs over to where the My Chem bus is parked. 

“Finally!” Frank exclaims, stubbing out his cigarette before yanking open the bus door. “I thought we were gonna have to leave you here. Don’t listen to Cortez’s shit, man, he’s the same kind of asshole with everyone. I don’t think he actually means any of it, though.”

Pete shrugs as he climbs the steps into the bus. Mikey is curled up in the corner of one of the couches, thumbs moving furiously over the keyboard of his sidekick. He looks up as Pete walks into the lounge, and clicks it shut before shoving it into his pocket and untucking his feet from underneath him. Pete takes the hint, and crosses the small space in two big steps, before flopping down right on top of Mikey, swinging his feet up to rest on the couch while Mikey wraps his arms around Pete’s middle. Frank snorts at them.

“What?” Mikey asks, turning his gaze away from Pete.

“Nothing,” Frank says, as the bus starts with a jolt and starts to move out of the parking lot. “It’s just funny. You never struck me as a romantic, Mikeyway.”

“Runs in the family,” Mikey says, his voice a controlled deadpan. “You should know that by now.”

“Whatever,” Frank says, as the apples of his cheeks and tips of his ears flush pink. He walks out of the lounge back into the bunks and climbs in one. Mikey watches him with a steady gaze until he’s out of sight.

“That’s Gee’s bunk he just got in, by the way,” Mikey says to Pete, who has his nose pressed to Mikey’s jawline. “They’ve been playing chicken with each other for years now. Ray and I have a betting pool going on how long it’s gonna take.” Pete huffs a small laugh at that, hot breath ghosting over Mikey’s neck. Mikey squeezes him a little tighter. It’s a three-hour drive from Massachusetts to the Way family home in New Jersey, and Pete didn’t sleep all that well. He wants to take a nap. He voices as much to Mikey, who laughs. “The bunk above the one Frank just climbed into is mine. Do you want to take a nap there?” Pete doesn’t. He doesn’t want to move from his perch on Mikey’s lap.

“Nah,” Pete says. “I want to stay right here.” He snuggles down a bit, letting his shirt ride up, so he can rest his head on Mikey’s bony shoulder. Mikey quirks a smile at him, small and sincere, and runs his hands through Pete’s hair. 

“Alright then,” Mikey says, still smiling softly. “Take a nap right here. I’ll let you know when we’re close to home.” Pete shuts his eyes, and presses his nose into Mikey’s sternum, breathing in coffee, stale cigarette smoke, and a smell that’s uniquely Mikey. It makes that feeling in his chest flare up again. He feels Mikey drop his head to rest his cheek on Pete’s forehead. This kind of intimacy isn't new for them, really, but it’s the first time there isn’t a deadline for it. No end of tour panic is bubbling in Pete’s stomach, no worry about the future of this thing, whatever it is. It’s a little scary, actually, how comfortable Pete is with everything. He disregards that though. They have two days until the plane leaves for Europe, he has time to figure out everything he needs to. He listens to the hum of the engine, the tires eating away at the asphalt of the interstate, and lets himself doze. He’s safe here. They both are. 

Next thing he knows, his side is being gently prodded by Mikey. He blinks away sleep, willing his brain to wake up. Mikey watches him from behind his glasses, reading Pete’s face like the written word. It makes Pete’s insides turn over.

“We’re here,” Mikey says in a soft voice. 

“I called ahead and told Ma you were coming with us,” says Gerard, from somewhere to the right of them. Pete turns to look at him. “She’s excited. I think we’re gonna get take-out for dinner and everything. Real fancy shit.” Gerard snorts a laugh, exhaling smoke and resting his cigarette in the ashtray. He eyes Mikey, the two of them having some sort of telepathic conversion that Pete clearly isn’t invited to, before Mikey turns his head back to Pete. Mikey's eyes are huge behind his glasses, and Pete grins at him like the cheshire cat. Mikey squeezes Pete’s middle and then pushes him gently out of his lap. “C’mon,” Gerard says, pushing the bus door open before bouncing down the steps “You two can make googly eyes at each other later. Don’t do it where I can see, it makes me feel like I’m gonna yartz.” There's no bite to his words. Mikey grabs Pete’s wrist and the two of them step off the bus together. Pete’s stomach is full of butterflies. The Way’s house is a tiny little post-war thing - there are cracks in the driveway and the paint is peeling on the front porch. Pete loves it immediately. A small, blonde woman with Gerard’s face and Mikey’s nose is standing in the doorway. Gerard shuffles to the door, and she hugs him tight. Pete’s pretty sure it's safe to assume she’s their mom.

“C’mon,” Mikey says, with a small smile. He pulls Pete to the door, where Mikey’s mom hugs him tight, the same way she did Gerard, pulling off his beanie to rustle his hair before he can duck away. Mikey makes a face but lets it happen. She replaces his hat before giving him a small kiss on the cheek and then turns her attention to Pete.

“Now!” she says with a small sigh, her voice thick with the same New Jersey lilt that the rest of the My Chem guys have. “You must be Peter. It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about you over the phone. From BOTH of my boys, may I add. Mikey seems to like you quite a lot.”

Mikey’s entire face flushes as she shepherds the three of them in the door and to the kitchen. Gerard laughs at him a little, which Mikey reacts to by punching him softly in the arm. Pete grins. “Yes Ma’am,” he says while taking in the kitchen and the small living room. The house smells like coffee and potpourri, and the walls are yellowed in the corners from years of cigarette smoke. “You have a lovely home, Ms. Way.” 

“Oh, none of that,” she says. “Please, call me Donna. Ms. Way makes me sound like a kindergarten teacher.” Pete gives her what he hopes is a winning smile, and nods before she continues. “You boys better be planning on taking some sort of bath before dinner. I love both of you, but you all smell like something that’s been dead for a week.”

It's not an unfair assessment. Pete’s been taking baths out of a garden hose for about a month now, so he has no disillusions about how he smells. From their reputation, he knows that the Way brothers aren’t any better in that department. Gerard just nods at her and kisses her cheek before walking down the flight of stairs behind a door in the kitchen. Pete thought it was a pantry, but it was apparently the entrance to the infamous Way family basement. Mikey turns to Donna, who was picking up a purse, with car keys jingling in her hand. 

“Where you headed, Ma?” Mikey asks. 

“To get something for dinner.” She responds. “That Chinese place a few blocks over just opened back up. I figured I’d get their family spread, hopefully, that’ll be enough for you all. We don’t have much food in the house, I’m afraid. I keep meaning to go to the store, I just forget.” She says, with a small laugh.

“I’m sure it will,” Mikey says. “If not, Pete and I’ll go to the Ralph’s later tonight. No biggie.”

Donna smiles at him, and waves as she walks out the door. Mikey waves back and Pete follows his lead. The door shuts, and all of a sudden Mikey is tugging on Pete’s wrist. They make their way down the small hallway off of the living room, stopping at the door on the very end. Mikey opens the door to reveal a small, blue-tiled bathroom. He pulls Pete inside before shutting the door behind them. 

“If I don’t take a shower like, right now,” Mikey says with a huff, “I think I’m gonna kill someone. I’m way beyond road gross. It’s like, I just escaped a sarlacc pit gross. I figured you might be the same way.” Pete lets out a small laugh and nods before Mikey continues. “So, I thought that we could shower, you know, together. So we don’t have to fight for the first shower. And it saves water.”

“I love your environmentalist mind, Mikeyway,” Pete says, shucking his shirt off while Mikey reaches in to turn the shower on. “Really, it’s so noble of you.” Pete pulls his shoes and pants off while Mikey does the same. When Pete looks up, Mikey is leaning against the sink, his glasses resting on the edge of it. Pete’s breath gets caught in his throat. It’s not that he hadn’t seen Mikey naked before. He has, a lot, actually. But never like this. It was always in a dark bunk or a shared hotel room, rushed and quiet. But now, under the soft glow of the bathroom lights and against the pitter-patter of the water warming up, Pete gets to take everything in. Mikey’s paler on his chest than his arms and has a smattering of freckles across his shoulders. He’s got a soft patch of blonde hair running from his navel to the middle of his chest, nothing much, but there nonetheless. He’s looking at Pete with dark eyes, taking him in the same way. His hair is askew from where he yanked his shirt off. He’s the most beautiful thing Pete has ever seen. 

Mikey pushes himself off the sink and sticks his hand into the shower for a second before pulling it back out. “I think it’s warm enough. Works for me, anyway.” He gestures at Pete to get in. “After you.”

Pete pulls back the curtain and climbs in, Mikey following right behind him. The heat of the water is bone-melting, and Pete moans as he sticks his head under the spray. It’s been a long time since he’s had a shower this good. He opens his eyes to find Mikey watching him, the corners of his lips skewed up in his signature not really there smile. He hands Pete the bar of soap from the lip of the tub, and Pete gets to work. He really is gross. There's dirt flaked all over his legs, a patch of what he thinks is spaghetti sauce on his right forearm, and some stuff on his stomach he doesn't want to think about. Mikey is the same way, as he attacks his body with a loofah. Pete watches his thin fingers run over his body with a bit of awe. Truthfully, he still can't believe he’s here, with Mikey, rather than on his bus back to Chicago. It makes him feel giddy. Mikey notices him watching then, and smirks.

“Do you want me to wash your hair for you?” Mikey asks, already lathering his hands with the milk and honey scented shampoo, because he knows the answer. Pete nods, and Mikey starts working his hands through Pete’s hair. He’s moving his hands in small, circular motions, massaging sweat and product out under the spray. Pete practically purrs at the feeling. Mikey starts washing his own hair as Pete rinses the soap out of his. His hair will be kinky curly once it dries, but he can’t bring himself to care that much. He can steal Mikey’s flat iron if he needs to, anyways. Mikey rinses his hair and shuts off the spray. He pulls the curtain back steps out onto the bathmat soaking wet, little streams of water cutting across his face and pooling in the hollow of his neck. Pete wants to lick it away. He steps out of the shower and does so. Mikey huffs a laugh at him, kissing his forehead and smoothing his hair back before throwing a towel at Pete. They dry off and wrap up, not wanting to run into Gerard in the off chance he was around. Mikey snags his glasses off the sink, and then pulls Pete into the small bedroom down the hall from the bathroom. There's a twin bed shoved in the corner, and the walls are covered in floor to ceiling band posters. Pete looks around, glimpsing the mind of a teenage Mikey. It’s not unlike his own, if Pete’s being honest with himself. 

“Smashing Pumpkins at the garden.” He reads aloud, looking at the nearest poster. “Sick.” 

“It was.” Mikey agrees. “Got me to start taking music shit seriously.” Pete turns to look at Mikey, who's still looking at the poster. Mikey smiles softly before moving to a small chest of drawers, digging through one before throwing a pair of ratty basketball shorts and an old Journey t-shirt at Pete. “I know my road stuff is gross, so I’m sure yours is too. Those should work until we can wash everything,” He says as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a New York Giants shirt that's about two sizes too small, and walks out of the room. Pete pulls the shorts and the shirt on, before following Mikey back to the kitchen. Gerard is sitting at the kitchen table in an honest to god set of matching Star Wars pajamas, his black hair wet and dripping every now and then onto the sketchbook he’s hunched over. He looks up as they walk in.

“Your hair is curly.” He says to Pete, in lieu of a greeting. Pete cocks his head and nods. Gerard shrugs and goes back to his drawing.

“Ma went to get food,” Mikey says to Gerard, who nods. He sits down at the kitchen table and motions for Pete to join them. Pete sits next to Mikey, who slings his arm around Pete and pulls him in close. It makes Pete’s chest ache again. “Hey,” Mikey says to him. “I’m glad you’re with us. I hope your band will be this chill when I follow you to Japan or something.”

Pete’s heart catches in his throat. Mikey wants to follow him too. It's an amazing feeling. “I’m sure they will be,” Pete says. “This was Patrick’s idea in the first place.”

“Remind me to send him a thank you card,” Mikey says while nuzzling his nose into Pete’s hair. “Because it was a great idea.”

It really was, Pete thinks. Sitting there with his boy and his boy’s brother, waiting on shitty Chinese takeout in borrowed pajamas, Pete feels something click into place. This is how it should be from now on and always, he thinks. He doesn't really know how to articulate it, but he’s sure Mikey feels it too. Besides, They have two days in the states and a whole European tour. They’ll figure it out. Pete knows they will.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic! Feedback and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. :)


End file.
